Tag: Third Act

I remember wandering in and instantly being transported back to another era, the 1920’s and ‘30’s: a jazz record on the Victrola; sultry, sweet female voice–husky from whiskey and cigarettes–singing of far-off places, muted, languid, trumpet melody. Just ahead, off to the side: an Army-green,  weather-beaten jeep with muddy...

I was in my 20’s before I went camping for the very first time—if you don’t count the overnight slumber party in a big tent in Lizzie Warner’s backyard across the street when we were 13. I’d married an outdoorsman passionate about hunting, fishing and hiking who was just...

You can’t read a travel or adventure blog without tripping over camping. Frustrated by lockdowns and seeking socially-distant alternatives to vacations and getaways, people are hitting the road and sleeping in vans, campers and tents. What was once reserved for grade-school scout troops or extreme backpackers has suddenly become...

Another ongoing collateral casualty of COVID is the American vacation. Not just the traditional two- weeks-a-year off from work but the shorter three- and four-day holiday weekend breaks and summer weekends at the lakeside cottage, mountain cabin or beach bungalow. Airlines, cruise lines, hotels and restaurants have all taken...

Complacency is the enemy. Joseph Campbell, detailer and explore of mankind’s myths and myth-making, called settling for the status quo “falling asleep at the river”—the river you were meant to cross as part of your divine story. (Everyone has a divine story). A scholar and writer I respect called...

It was a hotly contested election. Tuesday, November 2, 2004 dawned as another sunny day in Colorado Springs. It was chilly in the morning but would get up to the 60’s by midday, and I was growing used to the quirks of weather in the Rockies after eleven months....

Disaster was still hanging around even after the trip from Purgatory was over. It clung to me like a musty smell, and each relieved sigh seemed to be followed by another unsuspecting revelation. My brakes had failed, I had visited four car places just to get a diagnosis, had...

My expectations for small town sports bars in strip malls on Sunday nights were tempered from too many conventions and business trips over the decades. There would be beer, of course, bottles and cans and maybe a draft Lite or two—domestic. Wine selections might come from a box or...

I had packed my portable audio gear intending to do my Sunday radio show from the road. The golf resort’s wi-fi was strong enough to make that simple and fast. I also had to produce two features and two commercials before Monday, but I could do that when I...

Big disasters usually arrive solo, but small disasters almost always travel in packs, like wolves. The brake trouble I had upon arriving at a regional convention in York, PA didn’t interfere with the next day’s activities at the golf resort. I was part of a sampling of groups from...